Anne promptly burst into tears of disbelief. After all the months she’d waited for this to happen and had been disappointed time and time again when her period arrived, it had actually happened – she was going to have a baby. Maybe, she pondered, the saying was true that when you wanted something really badly and stopped thinking about it, then it suddenly happened.
Anne gazed out of the bedroom window across the park to where a group of mums and dads pushed their children on the swings and wondered what Tom was going to think about having a baby. She couldn’t tell him here, especially when he’d just been disappointed at not being able to meet his son, Thomas, but there again, she thought, maybe this news would help distract him. Anne dried her face as she heard Tom call up the stairs that they were ready to leave for the station, and she hurried around the bedroom checking to make sure they hadn’t left anything behind.
Tom sat next to Anne on the train with his arm around her as they left Kings Cross Station in London. There’d been tearful goodbyes at Brighton station and big hugs with promises to meet up again soon. Tom had talked about the whole weekend non-stop on the train into the capital, but now Anne felt the conversation fade as they lapsed into their usual quiet togetherness. A large bubble of excitement kept gripping her as she thought about the baby growing inside her, and she’d already fallen into the habit of smoothing her hand across her stomach.
Tom looked at her with concern. ‘Period cramps?’ he asked sympathetically. ‘Shall I get you some painkillers out of the toilet bag in the case?’
‘No, cramps,’ Anne said. ‘Thanks, but I’m fine.’
She looked out of the window and smirked. I’ll not need them for a while, she thought, not until after our baby is born. Mine and Tom’s baby, she repeated the words slowly to herself.
Tom turned to look at her and raised an eyebrow. Had he said something funny? He didn’t think so, but she looked different somehow − there was definitely a certain something that he couldn’t put his finger on. There again, he supposed, after last night’s surprise in the bedroom anything was possible. He’d been gobsmacked at the way Anne had lost all control and made love to him with such a raging passion as he’d never seen before, and in turn, he’d felt blown away by the intensity of his love for her.
He looked at the satisfied smirk on her face and remembered how marvellous she’d been all weekend – she’d been a tower of strength. Anne had made friends easily with Jenny and genuinely liked his brother-in-law. Ordinarily Tom would have just used the name, Mike, but he found now that he actually liked saying sentences with the words brother and sister in them.
She turned to face him again and he smiled at her. ‘Have I told you how much I love you today?’
Anne played along with his happy quip. ‘Em, no. I don’t think so,’
‘Well, I do,’ he said, and then whispered in her ear. ‘You were truly amazing last night.’
Anne tittered. ‘Well, that’s not the only surprise I have for you, but I think it’ll be best to wait until we get home before I tell you the other one.’
Tom looked into her eyes and knew there was something happening, something other than making love or sexual innuendos. ‘Tell me now, Anne. I can’t wait another three hours.’
Their seats were in the end of the carriage and as there were no other passengers around them, Anne decided that no one would hear if she did tell him. The train guard had already passed through and checked their tickets. She wavered in excitement, should she tell him or wait until later?
Tom sighed heavily. ‘Anne, you have to tell me now because my imagination is running riot here, and I’ve got to know why you are all fired up.’
‘Look, it’s probably not the best place for you to hear this,’ she said, chewing the inside of her cheek.
Tom frowned. ‘Anne…’ he pleaded. ‘For God’s sake, just tell me.’
She took a deep breath and whispered. ‘I’m pregnant, Tom. We’re going to have a baby.’
Tom thought his heart had actually stopped beating as his mind digested her words in stages. Pregnant, having a baby, he was going to be a father again, but this time it was his and Anne’s. ‘What?!’
Anne’s mouth dropped open in shock. He didn’t look very happy and she cursed herself for not waiting until they’d got home, where she could have prepared him for the shock. The possibility that he wouldn’t be excited and maybe not want the baby hadn’t entered her mind. Her mouth dried and she swallowed hard. ‘Are you not p…pleased?’
Tom couldn’t believe what she’d just said and he cried aloud, ‘Of course I’m bloody pleased. I’m just absolutely shell-shocked!’
He jumped up from his seat and punched the air. His chest felt ready to burst with happiness and he shouted, ‘I’m going to be a dad!’
Anne burst into laughter and pulled him down into his seat by his jacket sleeve. ‘Ssshh, everyone will hear you.’
‘I couldn’t give a toss,’ he said and cupped her face with his hands. ‘Are you sure?’
Anne explained and told him what had happened. He listened carefully and stroked the side of her face as she talked. She was the most precious thing in the world to him, and he told her exactly that. His stomach filled with bubbles of excitement and he gave a big belly laugh, then started to tap the seat in front of him. ‘I’m going to be a dad,’ he chanted over and over again.
The young girl pushing her trolley up the aisle, calling light refreshments, stopped by their seats – excitedly Tom told her he was going to be a dad and ordered two small bottles of Chianti red wine to celebrate. The girl congratulated them as Tom hooted and laughed and Anne blushed with embarrassment.
Tom opened the bottles of wine and poured them into the glasses. ‘I just can’t believe it,’ he said, handing Anne a glass. ‘And, you know, Anne, I’m sure I can be a much better dad than I have been a husband.’
Anne sipped her wine, relishing the liquid in her dry mouth, but it suddenly dawned on her that she shouldn’t be drinking alcohol while she was pregnant, and she drank a large mouthful of water from her bottle instead. She nodded at him. ‘I know you’ll be a great father, Tom.’
He was on a roll now, and his mind filled with ideas and plans. ‘If we have a boy, he’s not going to be brought up like I was. There’s no way he’ll be spoilt or pampered,’ he declared firmly. ‘He’ll play rugby, football, and be thrown in with other boys from nursery age. On this, Anne, I am determined.’
Anne smiled, ‘But what if it’s a girl?’
Tom grinned and hugged her tightly in between sipping his wine. ‘Well, if that’s the case then she will be spoiled and pampered. And no man will get within an inch of her!’
Anne giggled and squeezed his hand. ‘Oh, Tom, we’re going to have our own little family.’
Chapter Seventeen
When his daughter, Emily, was born and carefully placed into his arms, Tom let the tears roll unashamedly down his cheeks. She was so tiny, although the midwife reassured them she was the perfect weight and size, that Tom was momentarily scared to hold her and worried it might hurt her in some way. He gazed at her tiny little features, her fingernails, ears and rosebud lips, sighing with pleasure. Briefly, he remembered the sitcom, “Only Fools and Horses”, and how Del Boy had felt on the night his son was born. Tom’s heart filled with wonderment and sheer joy; he wanted to give this little pink bundle of loveliness the world.
During the months that followed there was a significant shift in his life, and he often told Anne and Emily that he adored them both. They were his own family and he wanted to provide and look after them until he was an old man. When Tom thought back to his worries before Anne was pregnant, and how unsure he’d been that he would be able to put a child’s needs before his own, and indeed, whether he was too selfish to be a father, it made him hoot with laughter. He knew now that he would gladly walk over hot coals for either of them and wanted to shield and protect them both from any of the difficulties that might lurk around shady corners of t
heir lives. But, more than anything else, he wanted to be a good father. He wanted Emily to have the type of dad that he’d longed for during his miserable childhood, and a father figure she could be proud of as he watched her grow into a beautiful young woman. Tom had often read about unconditional love, but it had taken the birth of his daughter for him to realise exactly what it meant. He determined every day to make Emily feel wanted and loved.
By now Tom was making a small but steady income from his writing and had become a house-husband at the same time. Before Emily was born they’d talked about the most economical and sensible way to approach the matter of childcare and Anne had agreed that it made sense for him to stay at home while she returned to work.
Tom had joined a writing group in the city centre and a romantic writing association, as he frequently found his skills lent themselves to writing love and relationship stories. He used a pen name for this work and learnt his craft well. He’d attended a writing workshop in York one weekend and Anne had joined him. As she had shopped for baby clothes in the cloister shops, Tom had joined the workshop of writers, some unpublished and others with novels published on Amazon. At first he’d felt anxious reading out his work in front of the group, but after a few stumbles, then nods and smiles of encouragement, he’d relaxed and enjoyed the session immensely. Their advice about his character profiles and how to introduce a sub-plot into the story were invaluable, and later that week Tom had been astounded when he’d made the changes and realised the difference they’d made to his story. So much so that he’d totally changed it to a more satisfying ending.
Back in Newcastle Tom went to a study day about social media where he talked to other local authors who encouraged him to use Facebook and Twitter to advertise his work, and of course design his own website. His stories were published on Amazon, in the Kindle short story section, which he’d found to be a lucrative outlet for his work both in the UK and the USA.
Tom often told people that the eBook revolution, and in particular Amazon Kindle, had been his pathway to a self-publishing career. His latest short story was published in a woman’s magazine and Jenny rang straight away to congratulate him. She bought three copies, one to send to Sarah at university and two that she’d posted to the twins in Ireland.
THE QUARRY
The small village of Bodington was agog with news. In the village pub the landlord, Bob, called out excitedly to his wife.
‘What's up?’ Sue said, coming through into the bar.
‘I've just heard the news - apparently, someone is going to buy the old quarry and open it to rework the stone. Won't that be great? It’ll bring more customers into the pub and we’ll be able to do meals for the workmen,’ he said, grinning at her.
She frowned. ‘Ah, but, Bob, I think we’re fine as we are - we're certainly not short of money.’ Her stomach began to churn; she didn’t want things to change and was more than content with her life in this quiet sleepy village.
Drying a glass, he mused, ‘But, if we make more money we could retire earlier - maybe abroad. I could fancy Portugal myself.’
Tutting to herself at his daydreams, Sue wandered around the tables collecting glasses and realised that word had spread like wildfire − everyone was talking about the quarry.
Her friend, Helen, waved and called her over. ‘Hi, Sue, are you okay?’
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she said and sat down next to Helen. ‘Bob's been telling me about the quarry business.’
Helen’s big hazel eyes widened and she frowned. ‘Yeah, everyone seems to be talking about it. Our postman reckons it’s just what we need and that the village has been a backwater far too long.’
Sue smiled and wrinkled her nose. ‘But I like living in a backwater, Helen.’
‘And so do I,’ she shuddered, ‘Years ago there was a quarry near my parent’s home and the noise was deafening. The lorries used to thunder up and down the road all day and well into the night.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘Do about what?’ asked Neil.
Helen’s brother dragged a chair up to the table and grinned at them as he sat down. His wife, Christine, carrying a tray of drinks from the bar joined them and he told her about the conversation. Neil was a landscape artist and they ran a small gift shop and tea room in the village.
Christine laughed. ‘Well, I can’t see it having much of an effect on our business. There won't be too many lorry drivers eating our cream teas and wanting to buy Neil’s pictures.’
‘Point taken, love, but I agree with Sue,’ Neil said. ‘I don’t want to see the increase in traffic and it could be dangerous, especially for the kids.’
‘Okay, so we need a protest committee to fight it,’ Christine said.
Sue looked around the table. ‘But none of us has any experience in protest committees – do we?’
‘Well… I did a little at university and really, how hard can it be?’ Christine said.
Helen offered to take minutes at the meetings. Neil said he would find out who the councillors were and details about the company, and a meeting was arranged for the following day.
Later, as they were getting ready for bed, Sue asked her husband. ‘Are you coming along to the protest meeting tomorrow?’
‘No, Sue, I'm not,’ he said, pulling the quilt over his shoulder, ‘I don’t agree with you and I’ve already told you − I’m all for the quarry being reopened.’
A gruff goodnight was all they could muster as they manoeuvred over to opposite sides of the bed.
The meeting was held and an action plan drawn-up with each member, albeit in a small way, playing their part. At the end of the week the local newspaper ran an article about the protest committee with a picture of the village green and the pub.
‘I don’t like your name and my pub being in the paper,’ Bob grumbled as he read the article.
Sue snapped, ‘But, Bob, we’re a protest committee, we have to make our concerns known.’
Mumbling under his breath he stomped off, but she followed him. ‘Don’t walk away, Bob, we need to talk this through.’
He stopped and turned towards her. ‘Look, starting the quarry up will give us more money,’ he said. ‘We work long hard hours – can’t you see that?’
‘But we do all right,’ she said.
‘Yeah, but I want to do more than all right. This is our chance to expand and make big changes.’
A shiver ran down her spine and she cleared her throat. ‘Well, that’s the rub, Bob, because I don’t want to make any changes. I’m happy the way we are.’
Sue left the room with a churning stomach and tears pricking the back of her eyes. A huge gap was opening up between them and she didn't know how to stop it.
During the following weeks Sue and Helen worked hard as the main committee members and won support from all areas of the community. They handed out leaflets, made posters and put petition forms all around the village. A meeting was organised for all the villagers, the local council and the construction company in the village hall. As Sue and Helen arrived early the seats had been set out in two blocks with an aisle down the middle and they took seats on the right hand side of the room. Therefore, when the villagers who wanted the quarry reopened arrived, they automatically sat on the left hand side.
As the hall started to fill, Helen turned to Sue. ‘You know, Sue, I always thought our village was a tight-knit community, but this quarry business has certainly caused a rift.’
Sue frowned. ‘Well, I think everyone feels strongly about it,’ she muttered, noticing Bob in the doorway. But instead of coming to sit with her, Bob sat down next to the postman on the opposite side. She swallowed a huge lump in her throat and fought back tears.
‘Are you okay?’ Helen asked and took her hand - she squeezed it tightly. ‘I do hope you and Bob aren’t falling out over this quarry dispute, Sue. Because, it really isn’t worth it. As the saying goes, what will be will be.’
‘I know,’ Sue moaned. ‘But, it’s not even the quar
ry that's between us now. We don't seem to want the same things anymore and the gap between us is getting wider by the day.’
The meeting started and Sue put forward the committee's arguments to the construction company and they answered and defended the objections. When the meeting was brought to a close she looked for Bob, but he’d already left. Sue walked home alone, very slowly and deep in thought.
During the following week they said very little to each other and were still sleeping on the edges of their bed. Sue longed to curl up next to him and feel his strong arms around her, but she knew that to get into that position she would have to back down, and she simply couldn't find it in herself to do that.
When Sue came downstairs one morning, Bob had the newspaper spread out on the bar, it read, “NO NEW QUARRY FOR BODINGTON - Too costly after all – Say Company”.
Bob waved the paper in the air and swung around to face her, ‘Well, you’ve won. That's our chances of early retirement out of the window.’
‘But, Bob. I wasn’t the one who wanted to retire early,’ she said quietly.
Briefly digesting the headlines on the paper, Sue took a deep breath. She’d lain awake for the last two nights with thoughts tumbling through her mind, but finally she’d come to a decision. Her voice trembled. ‘H…how are we going to sort this out between us, I mean, maybe we should spend some time apart?’
‘What?!’ he said. ‘But you’ve won − it’s over. Can’t we just go back to the way we were before?’
Sue sighed heavily and fiddled with a beer mat on the bar. ‘Oh, Bob, how can we? The quarry might be staying the same, but we can’t. I’m not sure the damage between us is something that we can fix…’
Bob stepped towards her and gripped her arms. ‘Look, we can sort this out. I know we can,’ he pleaded, licking his dry lips, ‘Just because we’ve been on opposite sides doesn’t mean I’ve stopped loving you.’ he cried.
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